


The First Noel

by FlatlandDan



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 12:24:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8979604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlatlandDan/pseuds/FlatlandDan
Summary: A Christmas story in which Clint plots, Phil worries, Laura Tasha promises not to assassinate anyone





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt First Team Christmas

It stars with an email in October, just as the weather starts to change and Phil thinks things might settle. He’s filling in paperwork, wading through the never ending pile he feels like he has been dealing with sine Clint Barton refused to take the shot and brought in Natasha on that faithful day in April. It’s a routine message from HR, requesting people apply for Christmas and Thanksgiving leave before the end of the month. SHIELD HR takes the balance between the two seriously, takes into account who worked what the year before, who has children, who has sick relatives…the list is endless. Phil has been called once or twice to in the lead up to the great November 10th announcement to advise but HR knows he's a soft touch and just wants everyone to be home for the season and the calls have mostly stopped. He logs in and applies for the weekend before Christmas, the now traditional Coulson clan Fakemas Day, and is thankful that is family has never pushed on why he can’t get the days off. He may not be able to get everyone home for Christmas, but he can fill in for one level seven or lower supervisor.

So Phil is only mildly surprised when his phone rings a week later, Roz from HR’s name displayed.

“We have a problem,” she announces, not even letting him finish his name when he picks up. He pinches in bridge of his nose. There is only one person on this base who could be the cause of this, despite Phil being reasonably sure he remembered extracting a promise to not put a toe over the line for the rest of the year.

“What’s he done?” Phil asked. On the other end of the line, Roz huffed.

“He has filled in an application to take Black Widow off base for Christmas. There is literally no president for this. Phil, he made the form himself. He even used black ink for fill the thing in. I’ve never seen anything like this.” Phil feels a tension headache start while his heart simultaneously starts to tug.

“Not possible. Absolutely not possible.” He wishes it was though. Natasha has been good, very good, in the six months she has been with them. Well, she had been good in the four months since they had all come to an understanding of what was happening. Natasha to know the repercussion for anything less then full success was training, not beatings, and SHIELD to gently probe to her past, her skills and her intentions. But as well as it was all going, as pleased as he was that Strike Team Echo was clearly bonding enough for Clint to think this was a good idea, it was his job as handler to step in.

“I’ll block the application then. Too bad though, he seemed excited about it. What should I do about his holiday form?” Roz asked hopefully.

“Don’t block anything, I’ll talk to them.”

“You have made my day. Thanks for talking to them, I already ruin enough Christmases.”  
  
Phil wasn’t sure what he was going to say to them, but he knew what he was going to say to Clint. Clint with the beautiful, carefully hidden away wife and less then a year old son. The son who’s birth he had nearly missed because he was in a safe house, convincing SHIELD to bring Natasha in. He flipped open his personal phone.

_HR called. We need to talk about your Christmas plans. Come by my office when you finish the course_.

He tried to go back to the analysis in front of him but felt his mind slipping forward to the impending conversation. One finger was nervously tapping on the keyboard in front him when there was a knock on his door and a sheepish Clint stuck his head in.

“You know, I might have been busy. You can’t just waltz in here,” Phil chided him gently.

“That statement might be true if Barton could waltz.” Phil locked eyes with Clint, now totally aware of what the sheepish expression was actually for. Clint stumbled a forward, jostled into the room by Natasha. “Does SHIELD do dance lessons? You should sign him up for them if they do. Could be useful in the future.”

Phil gestured at the chairs in front of him, his mind desperately trying to form a way through this siutuation. Natasha smiled patiently, Clint smiled nervously and Phil didn’t smile at all. It was an game they had all played before, one Phil had taught a young Clint and an even younger Natasha. _If_ _you are worried about a meeting, bring the person the other side would like to see at the the least. Make it hard work for them_ , and easier for you. Phil really wished he could let it work this time.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Phil asked, letting his eyes settle on Clint. Clint shrugged but Phil wasn’t interested in his reaction, he was interested in the fleeting confused look on Natasha’s face. She was getting easier to read in private situations, something is was increasingly grateful for.

“I just thought it would be nice, a nice little thing.” Clint replied, still shrugging. Phil let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“You thought? You thought, Agent Barton? I really don't think you did.”

“What did he ask for?” Natasha interrupted. “Something to do with me.” Her voice sounded flatter and she glanced over at Clint. “Whatever it was, you shouldn’t have. SHIELD has been more than fair with me the last six months. I have food, clothing and a bed. I don’t want for anything.”

“How long is it going to take, Phil?” Clint asked bitterly. “How many years does she have to think this is as good as it gets? That SHIELD has to be your entire life. She’s 20 years old and she's done living.”

“She’ll be cleared for next year, I promise. But you of all people should remember that alternatively recruited agents do not get leave unless accompanied by a level seven agent.” Even as he says it he knows his fate is sealed. Clint looks like the cat that got the cream and Natasha looks curious.

“Hey Phil, got any plans for Christmas?”

 

Phil hands in the forms the next day to Roz in person and she barely looks up as the hit her desk.

“Phil Coulson, that had better be what I think it is.”

“84A, WP7 and three TC Leave forms.” Phil relies wearily. He puts a small box of lindt balls on top of them, an offering to the goddess of HR. “That isn’t a bribe, it’s an apology. I know this is going to throw a wrench into the plans.”

Roz waves him off, even as she puts the chocolate into her desk. “It’s not your fault. Someone must have told him that both of you have worked every Christmas and Thanksgiving for the last three years, and if you were to put in this particular combination of forms it would be practically guaranteed you would get leave approved.”

“Someone, hey Roz?” Phil says, chiding her gently. She looks up at him, her eyes narrowing.

“Don’t think for a second you have a monopoly on wanting them to have normal lives, Phillip. I don’t know what secret life Agent Barton has but I know it needs health and dental coverage.”

Phil makes a tactical retreat before the questions become harder and a few weeks later is unsurprised when the leave schedule is announced and the three of them are free and clear for December 23rd to 26th.

_You had better have a plan, Barton_ he texts.

_Borrow a motor pool car. We’re going to the farm._

Phil isn’t remotely surprised.

 

It’s the morning of December 23rd and Phil is leaning against the car, hands deep hoodie pocket. He’s bone weary, through probably not as tired as the two figures walking towards him with bags slung over their shoulders. He wonders if they’ve had enough time to repack after coming back at 3 am for their last mission or if he should double check their bags.

“I’d like to petition to get the extras three hours of holiday I missed back,” Clint says as he dumps his bag into the trunk. He’s wearing a hoodie as well, and a pair of sweatpants. Only Natasha looks presentable to strangers, but Phil guesses this is because she has SHIELD issue gym clothes or undercover wear. Plus, Phil guesses that despite them keeping the destination a secret she probably knows she’s off to meet someone.

“Stop complaining,” she scolds Clint gently. “You can sleep in the back since you flew.. I’ll keep Coulson company.” Clint huffs happily as is asleep before they pass security. Phil stays silent as they make their way out of the city, heading north west. The closer they get, the more worried he becomes. Natasha has settled in with her diskman and a pile of magazine, more comfortable with silence then even he is. Phil trusts her, deep down. He trusts her to have the back of one of his best friends in the field, trusts her to keep secrets. But right now, as they move swiftly closer to their destination, he feels like everything is moving too fast. He wishes a snow storm would suddenly descend and force them off the road into a little motel for the night to give everyone a chance to rethink. He loves Clint and Laura, he is growing very fond of Natasha and little Cooper, and this threatens everything.

They stop for lunch, burgers and milkshakes all around, and Phil watches the two of them tease each other mercilessly over mouthfuls of food. Clint laughs so hard at her impression of Maria Hill trying to give them all hell for something she would have done herself milkshake ends up on his shirt. It’s hard for him to remember that he’s here to make sure she doesn’t escape, defect or murder anyone. The further away from the base they get, with no mission is sight, the less he worries. He wants to be lulled into the same sense of security that Clint is and so, but the time he picks up the tab for lunch, snacks and gas he has. Clint is in the drivers seat when he gets out, Tasha (yes, he’s determined to start calling her that now) in the back. The passenger door is open and they are both smiling at him. Tasha is leaning over the seat to grab her CD’s. They could be a family making their way home for a holidays, and yeah..Phil is comfortable with this.

“Everyone put their seat belts on and no one assassinate anyone,” he states calmly as he gets in. Clint snorts, Tasha’s grin gets impossibly bigger and Phil surrenders himself to the knowledge that sometimes you have to let kids make choices, it’s just important to help them pick up the pieces if the worst happens.

 

They arrive just after three, Clint driving them down the winding last few isolated roads until finally they are parked in front of a big unfinished house.

“I wanted to have it done this fall, but I guess we were busy saving the world. I got it water tight though, so I can work on the drywall and electrics over the winter. Should be able to move in next summer.”

Tasha nods. “It’s a very well built home,” she says tentatively. They’ve both gone awkward, unsure now that they’ve arrived. The car is turned off but no one has made a move for the door. They can all clearly see the well trodden foot path that runs to the left of the house and leads into the woods, but the path out of this car is obscure to them.

Suddenly, the driver door is yanked open and Phil finds himself instinctively reaching for his gun before he recognizes the face that appears in the door.

“Did I surprise three spies? Holy shit, it’s a Christmas miracle,” Laura cries, wrapping her parka covered arms around Clint. “Hello, Husband. Hello, Husband Babysitter!” She reaches past Clint to pat Phil on the arm.

“I was deep in thought.” Clint tells her. Laura rolls her eyes and flashes Tasha a conspiring smile.

“You were chickening out on introducing me to your partner. Don’t even try and tell me otherwise, Clint Barton.” She ignores Clint’s protests and wrestles herself out of his arms before opening the back door and sliding in beside Tasha, the later shuffling over to the far side of the car and glancing nervously at Phil’s hand under his jacket. Phil still hasn’t taken his hand off his gun. “I’m Laura Barton, the wife”

There is a split second of silence before Tasha puts out her hand. “Natasha Romanov. Security risk.”

Laura's smile doesn’t even falter for a second. She turns to beam at the two men in the front.

“She’ll fit right in.”

It’s not a long walk to the old cabin in the woods that is the current home of the Bartons. The cabin had been on the land when they had purchased it, the fact they could move in immediately the deciding factor. It was a small, two bedroom, one bathroom, open plan living place.

“We didn’t really need to do work on it, but I’m sure glad we did. I don’t think I could have spent two winters in the place otherwise,” Laura says conversationally as they walk up the path. “I’ve put you in the spare room. Phil, you’re in ours.”

“I’m not kicking you out of your room.” Phil is bringing up the rear, pulling the sled full of wood and keeping a close eye on Tasha walking between them.

“Cooper fusses most nights, so it’s just easier we can get up.” Laura replies.

“Is Cooper cat or a dog?” Tasha asks curiously. They’re at the front door and Clint deliberately stamps his feet to clear the snow, distracting all of them.

“Right, after you guys.” Clint says, gesturing in. Laura goes first and a few seconds later, Tasha follows. Clint shuts the door.

“Now is not the time for second thoughts, Clint.” Phil tells him, putting his hands under his armpits to warm them up. Clint shakes his head and pulls Phil to the window. They watch Laura and Tasha take their jackets off and cross to the play pen on the far side of the room. Laura leans down and picks up Cooper, ten months old, and thrusts him into Tasha’s arms. It only takes a second for the fear and worry to disappear off Tasha’s face and soon she’s rubbing noses with the baby. Beside him, Phil hears Clint sigh contentedly.

“I wanted to see that. See the look on her face when she met him. You can tell a lot about a person when they meet a baby.” Clint tells him, heading for the door. “She’s a good person, Phil. She just needs a team, a family, like I did.”

Phil stays outside a little longer, just to see the four faces smile as Clint hoists Cooper over his head. It had been a long road to get here, and there was as long road ahead. But Phil smelled honey ham slow cooking and he heard laughter as he opened the door.

“Phil is an expert at peeling vegetables, but I’m sure you can help.” Laura was saying, gesturing to the kitchen area. “I’m going to try and get Cooper down for a nap before we eat. I’m taking my husband with me. Make yourself at home. There’s potato chips on the counter and drinks in the fridge.”

Tasha’s smile was the widest he had ever seen as she turned. “Come on, Phil. Lets see which of us is faster with a knife.” It was the first time she had ever called him Phil. He couldn’t help but smile back.

“Welcome to the team” he tells her, and he felt the last of a weight lift off his shoulders and fall away like snow.


End file.
